Someday
by Doranwen
Summary: AU after Covenant: Chloe survived and is in hiding, but she can't put Clark behind her. Note: This is horribly ancient and needs to be rewritten, but I have neither time nor the inclination. Serves as a good example of where I came FROM.


Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the idea for the fic, and even that was really taken from a combination of other fic ideas people have used . . . The song which inspired me is Someday, which belongs to the (very very sadly) late Karen Carpenter, and her brother Richard, who I believe now owns all of her songs and such. She had a very rare, very beautiful voice, and died February 4, 1983 of heart failure caused by chronic anorexia nervosa, for those who haven't heard about her.

_Updated Note__: To read the lyrics, you'll need to google them; I've taken them out so I'm not breaking the site guidelines. I've noted where you need to read each stanza (verse, whatever, I'm not sure what to call the sections of a pop song that doesn't use a strong verse/chorus schema)._

This is the first time I've attempted first-person, am hoping I don't bungle it too badly. I suspect Chloe may sound slightly OOC, but maybe not too much.

A/N: Karen Carpenter's was a voice I grew up hearing around the house, and one night when I listened to her song _Someday_, I couldn't help but think that it would make a good songfic (yes, there is such a thing!). It is simply exquisite--and I felt that there needed to be some songfics not based on modern pop songs.

Spoilers: up through Covenant (322)

Summary: AU after Covenant. Chloe survived the explosion, though her dad was killed. Realizing it is no longer safe to be Chloe Sullivan, she goes into hiding with the help of some of her "contacts," but she can't forget Clark completely.

_Read stanza 1_

So this is it. Chloe Sullivan doesn't exist any more. Besides, there's nothing left for her. No father, no family at all, unless you count a mother who abandoned her. Friends? They'd just be targets for Lionel Luthor's revenge. Better for them to think her dead. No, I am not Chloe. Chloe died in that explosion. Chloe died when she learned her father was murdered because of her choices. Chloe's gone, and she left me behind. I'm not quite sure who I am any more, though MK is working on that as I write.  
In the process of getting to the bottom of a few of Lionel's nefarious workings, I met up with a very special network of people who are even more subtle than Lionel himself. They can take someone and make them disappear, and create a new person that has never before existed, all underneath Lionel's nose, without him ever noticing. They had been following Lionel's hearing and suspected I'd be in trouble. One of them managed to rescue me from the house as it exploded. They couldn't save my dad, though . . . I can't think about that any more. I had enough nightmares the first few weeks, his face looking straight into mine, horrified. I don't think I'll ever forget the look on his face.  
Anyways, I stayed in a medical center most doctors will never hear of, and the burns have mostly healed now, though I think my right cheek may always look sort of strange (thankfully there is such a thing as makeup). And now I have brown hair, and a new name. It's time for me to go somewhere else in the world. Smallville is my past now, a past I don't dare breathe to anyone.  
But oh, I am going to miss some people. Pete is in Wichita now, and I'm going to miss him so much, but Clark is still in Smallville. It's going to be hard not seeing him every day at school, despite all our communication problems and lack of trust. (Sheesh, Clark, when were you going to tell me about the whole alien business?) And I'm probably the most idiotic girl there is, but I guess I'm still in love with the doofus. If there's any hope for us, it's not going to be till Lionel is dead, at least. So goodbye, Clark. Maybe someday I'll see you again.

_Read stanza 2  
_  
Clark, I miss you. I wish it was safe to let you know I'm alive. I hope you're happy at least, and not missing me too much. But I want you to miss me as well; I want to be important enough to you that you couldn't go through a day without remembering me somehow. Someday I'm going to come back, I know it. I have dreams about how it'll happen; I dream that I'll drive up to your farm and see you working like usual, looking just like you always do. And you will look at me and just know, somehow, that it's me, whatever I look like, whoever I've become. And you'll love me . . . It's a foolish dream, I know. But I can't help dreaming anyhow. It's all I have to hold on to right now--dreaming of someday.

_Read stanza 3  
_  
I have a job now, a real job. I skipped the last year of high school and went on to college halfway across the country. Now I'm an investigative reporter for a small but growing newspaper. I have to stay fairly low profile still, but I'm not as worried of discovery now. It's still not safe, though. Lionel might be dying, but he's still alive, and his henchmen are still very active. I can't follow too much of his actions, though. Even snooping around the edges of his deals earns more attention than I want right now. The job only reminds me of our Torch days, though. Back when life was simple, even if we went to school with shapeshifters and heat suckers. Back when I had friends I could count on, when I could hang out with you every day, Clark, even if you didn't like me the same way I did you. You were there to talk to; even when I was nothing more than your search engine, you were visible and real. I need that right now, to see you, hear you, touch you. I'm losing my memory of your face; I wasn't able to keep any pictures due to the danger. Someday, maybe I will be able to see you again.

_Read stanza 4  
_  
I'm usually happy to discover there are new cures for diseases. But sometimes I wish medical science wasn't so advanced. Lionel's doctors learned of a new treatment for his disease. It won't cure it completely, but it will prolong his life and make it a little easier. And the longer he lives, the longer I'm exiled. I don't even have a time in the future when I can predict I'll be safe. I might be a middle-aged woman by the time it's safe to return. Will anyone even remember me then? Clark, please don't forget me. And please, don't change too much? Because, I've promised myself, I'm coming back to you, someday.

_Read the rest of the lyrics  
_


End file.
